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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115670">Driving Above Fifty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeldaByrdeBishop/pseuds/ZeldaByrdeBishop'>ZeldaByrdeBishop</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bite Me this works and fixes a few problems with the canon so literally somehow you're welcome, Canon Compliant, F/M, awban compliant, i edited this gently drunk and coffee hyped so please be gentle with it, im just as angry as the rest of you but we're all on this crazy train now so...</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:08:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeldaByrdeBishop/pseuds/ZeldaByrdeBishop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zelda Spellman's hearse gets a flat and Hardge Kinkle fixes it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zelda Spellman/Harvey Kinkle's Father</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Driving Above Fifty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Greendale, 1957</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hardge Kinkle glanced up from his cigar as the sound of a blown tire echoed through Greendale’s Main Street. He had taken the boys out for ice cream, which they’d already finished, while he could enjoy smoking a rare cigar out in the open air as they played. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy! Look!” Harvey cried as the Spellman’s hearse jerked in the road before it was eased to the side and the eldest sister, Zelda Spellman, emerged from the car. She was dressed in long black pants and a green long sleeved shirt, despite the hot weather, that was accented with a large bow at her collar. The whole ensemble seemed to have gone out of style 10 years ago, which wouldn’t usually be attractive, but somehow she pulled it off despite the changing times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blasted!” The woman cursed as she kicked the tire as if to ensure it was dead before opening the back of the hearse, revealing the dead body of Phyllis Schlaffer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardge cringed and turned his focus back down to his cigar and soda. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy held his and Harvey’s red ball between his hands, the boys playing officially ceased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad...We should go help her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure she’s fine, Tommy,” he assured. The last thing he wanted to do was speak to Zelda Spellman. Any time he even thought that name he couldn’t help but remember his wife’s passing. He was much more content to simply watch the woman from a distance, able to admire how long those pants made her legs look without having to confront her brazen personality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eldest son frowned and bounced the ball a few times before looking between his father and Harvey. The ten year old made a decision and  handed the ball to Harvey before quickly running over to the woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TOMMY!” Hardge yelled after the boy before grumbling as he lifted himself off the small brick wall he’d been sitting on before walking towards the red-head. </span>
</p><p><span>Harvey followed after Hardge obediently, holding the ball as he peered at the scene from behind his father’s legs when they came to a stop as the Spellman woman loosened the lug nuts on the wheel, replying to a question Tommy must have asked. </span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“I’ve got it quite handled, Thomas, but thank you.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Dad knows how to change a tire! He says he can do it in five minutes flat!” The boy boasted, his hands going to his hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Spellman woman slowly rose from her hips, her face turning to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your son says you can change a tire in five minutes. Is this true, Hardge Kinkle?” The woman asked coyly. If he didn’t know any better he would assume she was flirting. Was she?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can, but I’m not in the business of doing work for a woman who has her mind made up that she can do it herself. Please. I’d hate to step on your feminist toes.” And now would come her beg….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she didn’t. Instead, the Spellman rolled her and stooped back down, her ass in</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the air as she finished loosening the bolts. “Thomas can you get the lift from the boot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy’s head tilted to the side as the British reference, but was able to use his context clues and moved towards the open end of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Hardge demanded before the boy could cross the corner to where the dead body laid. “I’ll get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked over to the back and held his breath as he dug beside the woman’s graying dead feet in the trunk compartment, feeling faint as he returned with the lift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel the Spellman give him a once over, before straightening to meet his offering. “We all die, Mr. Kinkle…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man nodded and crossed his arms, shoving thoughts of Amanda out of his mind. “It still smells,” he protested, puffing his chest as he crossed his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda rolled her eyes and winked down at Tommy before stooping back down to crank the car up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardge scowled, “Excuse you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman paused her cranking and put a hand on her knee to look up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze steadied over her as he brought the cigar back to his lips, “I don’t appreciate you making me out to look like a fool in front of my boys!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy watched between them, where he sat crouched by the car’s wheel as Harvey moved to sit beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda stood back up and crossed her arms, her voice low, but quiet, keeping their argument between them. “Then don’t act like a fool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scowled and spit to the side. “I wasn’t! I said your damned body smelled!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda scowled, “Phyllis Schlaffer died three hours ago in an arid hospital room of heart failure due to old age. She was then taken into my car and is now lying in my hearse only having been exposed to this August air for five minutes.  The woman won’t smell for another 48 hours at least. Although, I will give you that she did have quite a similar smell to the indole chemical while she was alive, although that has more to do with the state of the Greendale Nursing Home than her time and manner of death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardge stood tall, but said nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the silence came the sound of a small boy grunting and the two adults looked down to see Tommy trying to crank the car lift. He looked up at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy-” Zelda and Hardge said in unison, causing them both to look back at each other and scowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardge ruffled and took another puff of his cigar before spitting to the side, his spit glob almost hitting her Louis Vuittons, before he got down on the ground beside her car, cigar in the corner of his mouth. “You’ve just gotta put your muscles into it,” he said as he started to crank it, letting Tommy hold onto the end to help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zelda watched, her arms crossed. This is what she got for going out into the mortal world. She tried to keep her visits brief and lacking in human interaction unlike her sister. It was just best to keep away. Like she said, we all die - a fact that became a glaring reminder since the recent world war. Having her brother’s half mortal child under her roof was hard enough, luckily her niece would be signing the Book of the Beasts in about ten years time - then her worries would be lessened - Sabrina would be a witch then - a full witch - and she would be able to live the long life of a witch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda was torn from her thoughts with a tug at her pants. She looked down to see little Harvey Kinkle, who held out his ball to her. Her nose crinkled a bit, but she took the ball, unsure of what to do with it and even less sure of what to do with it when the boy sat down on her shoes, sticking his thumb in his mouth. She scowled and shooed his thumb away from his orifice. His thumb had to be filthy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardge removed the nuts from the tire once the car was properly elevated and got up to retrieve the spare once he turned to see his son perched on her feet, holding the dirty toy ball with only the tips of a few fingers. “...So….what brought </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>to town? Doesn’t your sister usually retrieve the bodies? I thought you were Dr. Frankenstein, not the Grim Reaper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignored the quip. “My sister had other engagements.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda was in London for the week, tying up something or other with a friend of hers. Zelda hadn’t asked questions. She’d tried to get Hilda to stay with the swing of her hoe and a good old Cain Pit revival, but that had had the opposite effect and instead caused her to pack her bags faster and leave earlier - meaning Zelda was on body retrieval duty today. She couldn’t wait to get home and shake the town off her body with the sound of the chemical mixer and the smell of formaldehyde in the morgue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fit the spare tire onto the car and started to replace the nuts. “Is Sabrina excited for Kindergarten? I know Harv is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips skewed and she handed Harvey his ball back as he reached up for it, bouncing up to play with his brother, who had grown bored of learning how to attach a tire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kindergarten?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardge didn’t glance up as his muscles flexed attractively while he tightened the wheel. His hands had grown dirtier than she thought they should have, but she was grateful it was his hands and not her’s. “Yeah. You know? School - Kindergarten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scowled and her arms tightened around her elbows. “Sabrina isn’t going to a mortal school. She’s being homeschooled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardge’s eyebrows knit at the term “mortal,” but said nothing. “Not according to your sister. We all toured the school with the kids. They start in two weeks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda frowned deeply, her breath sticking in her chest making it hard to breathe, as his words started to hit her. She straightened her back, determining the heat must be starting to settle unfavorably and she refused to sweat in this shirt. The witch grabbed the dead body’s release papers from the hospital and started to fan herself. Didn’t Hilda know how stupid that was?! Tying Sabrina to the mortal world would only cause the girl strife and worst off - what if she decided to stay mortal because of it? No. Impossible. Sabrina would see sense. She would ensure that. Satan, it was really getting hot!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zelda, are you alright?” Hardge’s voice sounded distant and the witch placed a hand on the hot metal of the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” She excused, trying to internally count through her breathing as she fanned herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardge Kinkle stood up and wiped his hands on his shirt, offering her his soda can from the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda scowled and shied away from the beverage. “No. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scowled looking down at the can of sugar before compromising with herself, taking the cold beverage to hold to her neck, the condensation sending a grateful shivering shock through her spine.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardge leaned against the hearse, watching her. “She’ll be alright. I felt the same way about Tommy starting up….but it’ll work out alright. Sabrina’s already made friends with Harvey and the Reverend’s kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda could feel a wave of nausea at the thought of Sabrina befriending the child of the Reverend of all people that her face must have given away, causing Hardge to chuckle. “Yeah...the Walker’s though - they’re good people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda could feel her senses coming back to her through the shock of the soda can and she let out a deep breath, handing the can back to him. Hardge took the aluminum and took a swig after taking a final puff of his cigar before crushing it with his boot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cigarette. Zelda went to the front of the car and got out her silver cigarette case from the glove box and lit a fag, her muscles relaxing as the smoke filled her lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’ll give you lung cancer,” Hardge parroted coyly as he lowered the car. Zelda smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” She took another big puff from between her polished fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardge placed the blown tire and the jack back into the boot and shut the door. “Alright. You’re all set. Don’t drive too fast. A spare can only take-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Approximately 50 miles. The town’s highest speed limit is 35.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and then raised his voice. “Alright, boys! Let’s go. We gotta eat dinner!”</span>
</p><p><span>To which Tommy and Harvey quickly paused their game of ball in order to rush back towards where their car rested. </span><span><br/>
</span> <span>Zelda walked back to the other side of the hearse and got into the driver's seat, focused on her cigarette while brainstorming how she planned to kill Hilda for filling her niece's head with ideas of Kindergarten. The fire pick? Hot coals? Perhaps fire itself? She was determined to fix this. She would simply forbid Sabrina go. How dare her sister try such debauchery?</span></p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, there was a knock on the window and Zelda jumped, confronted with Hardge’s dirty hands on her car. She rolled down the window and he flicked in a piece of paper, saying nothing before going back to his car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled the window back up and looked down at the slip of paper. It was a torn edge of a document and on it was a phone number with the words, “My hands are good for more than just fixing cars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zelda smirked and took in a long drag of her cigarette, drawing comfort in the way heat crawled between her legs at the proposal. She glanced in the rear-view mirror, seeing Hardge watching her car, so she rolled down the window again and smirked, blowing smoke into the review window before rolling it back up and putting the car in drive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Faustus had ended things between them - technically - when he got married, but more accurately since she’d resigned from the academy. The past six years was the longest she’d ever gone without sex in centuries and her body itched, embrassingly so, for the warmth of another person - for that sweet release. Perhaps one night wouldn’t hurt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One shouldn’t get mixed up with mortals, Zelds. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She pressed her foot to the gas. </span>
</p>
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